


A Different Sort of Plotting

by firjii



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Mabari, Other, brief minor language, dog (barkspawn), quality time with the war hound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firjii/pseuds/firjii
Summary: Alistair ruminates over his growing feelings for f!Tabris with the only party member who might be capable of keeping a secret.





	A Different Sort of Plotting

Alistair shielded his face against the afternoon sun but continued his amble. His plate boots sank deeply into the thick layer of dust on the land, more sand than earth despite the brisk weather that day that should have hardened the ground. An impressive cloud of fine particles pitched upward with each step he took – and he wasn’t the only one.

He scowled downward suddenly. “Don’t give me that look again.”

Dog cocked his head.

Alistair exhaled, something akin to a sigh hidden in a chuckle. “I know what you think of us. You’ve made it plain enough, thank you _very_ much.”

Dog whined.

“I – _what_?” His brow jigged. “Are you serious?”

Dog whimpered a short melody.

Alistair’s mouth debated with itself whether to smile. “But why _wouldn’t_ you? Everyone else does.”

Dog whimpered again, lower and longer this time.

“I see. I –” Alistair lowered his head and looked away. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have thought of that myself.”

Dog panted quietly.

“It’s not her fault, you know.”

They walked on for a few moments in silence, Dog’s trot ably matching Alistair’s hesitant but long strides. Dog barked barely above a mutter.

“What?” Alistair blurted as his head dipped in a hurry to look at his companion.

Dog barked a fraction louder, still a grunt more than a proud call.

“ _No!_ I wouldn’t dream of it!” Alistair snorted. “Why would you say that? It’s ridiculous!”

Dog smiled.

So did Alistair. “And what if I do, eh? What does that matter?”

Dog only panted lightly as his trot went on, unbroken and unfazed.

“She’s not like that.”

Dog panted audibly.

“ _Maker!_ _I’m_ not like that, either. Where _do_ you get your ideas?”

But Dog’s encouraging whuffle only broadened Alistair’s smile.

“Then you’re wrong.”

Dog whined with a downward tone.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, then.”

Dog pricked his ears and stared at Alistair until the two made eye contact.

Alistair flicked his gaze away in a hurry. He sighed tightly. “That’s none of your business.”

Dog cocked his head again, his ears still immovably upright.

“No, I don’t, as it happens. Why should that matter?”

Dog rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t mind. She told me.”

Dog barked properly, neither aggressive nor happy but with the surety typically expected of a Mabari.

“Because she’s never told a lie since I met her,” he snapped. He rubbed his neck and huffed. “She thought I’d be angry when she was too tired to eat and gave half her soup to a refugee. You saw it. She trembled.” His hand waved about as he remembered the occasion, weeks old but still as fresh as new steel. “She thought – I don’t know what she thought. But how can someone like that ever be angry about cautiousness? It’s her meat and drink.”

Dog looked away and growled at the growing sunset.

“You don’t have to tell _me_. She’ll never see that again – not while _I’m_ here.”

Dog wailed breathily.

“I don’t care. She didn’t deserve it. No one does.”

Dog whined indecisively.

“You don’t know a damned thing about it,” he roared. He stopped abruptly. A great cloud of delicate but ample dust rose around man and beast alike. Alistair’s mouth twisted into a sneer, though he didn’t direct it at his companion. He took three deep breaths to check himself. He walked on. “She’ll come to it in her own time if she likes. She hasn’t told _anyone_ what happened that day, and that includes me. I had to learn about it from people she knew in Denerim. I spent half my weight in coin bribing them for details and the other half to arrange enough contacts and messengers so that I’d actually get their letters. And they still only told me enough for me to want even more answers.”

Dog let out a prolonged, fragile whistle from neither his mouth nor his throat.

“If you don’t mean it, you shouldn’t talk about it.”

Silence fell on them again. Dog cautiously cleared his throat several times before letting out a generic, low rumble of curiosity.

Alistair glanced downward. “Because she asked me. It’s not the same, anyway. My life is public knowledge. A little rough around the edges, I grant you, but nothing incriminating. But she –” He shook his head. “It’s different. I didn’t come into the Wardens with blood on my hands. I didn’t have to wonder if my life or theirs was worthier. I didn’t need to worry about someone coming after me just because I dared to fight my way out of–”

Dog sighed and hung his shoulders slightly.

“No. I know you didn’t. But don’t ask her about it, alright? There are some things you don’t pry out of people if you don’t have to.”

Dog tilted his chin up and stared until his jowls slackened.

Alistair’s frame softened. “Yes. I _do_ ,” he muttered. The warmth in his voice also warmed his face against the chill for a moment. “I’m as surprised as you are. It’s not exactly a likely match on the surface. But then,” he paused to gently kick a pebble out of his path, “I don’t suppose there _are_ many likelihoods for Wardens. Perhaps it’s better this way.”

Dog barked a little more robustly.

“I don’t need a reason, damn it. We’re trying to survive a Blight. Wanting to wake up the next day is reason enough. There are enough things trying to kill everyone without a poor love match adding itself to the list. Look, we get on, that’s all. And now – now it’s a bit more than that. It was probably going to happen anyway. If two people want to–”

A squeaky not-bark erupted from Dog.

“Because there hasn’t been a convenient moment to bring it up in the last _month_. You know that better than any of us. You’re always the first to get splattered on. Would _you_ want someone to tell you such nonsense when you were still cleaning the blood out of your shirt? Ugh,” he added hurriedly. “I shouldn’t ask that to an animal bred for war. _You’d_ probably see it as incentive.”

Dog growled in earnest.

“Of course I’ll tell her.”

Dog stared.

“ _Of course_ I do.”

Dog stopped, looked up, and tilted a paw several inches off the ground.

“No, not – not today. She cried when she saw that dead child at a camp yesterday. I can’t make her think of herself while she’s hell-bent on thinking of others. It’ll only confuse her. She’s guilty about enough things just now.” He stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He nodded rigidly, more to himself than his companion. “But – soon. I’ll do it soon.”

Dog wagged his stub of a tail.

Alistair chuckled softly. “Yes, I _am_. I’m a fool. What of it? Why else would I not be able to stop thinking about her?”

Dog sat, his tail thrumming the ground despite its diminutive reach. He panted, but silently this time, and through another of his wide smiles.

Alistair crouched down to rub the beast’s ears. “I know. You’re right.” He grinned fully now. “It always _is_. Why else would anyone ever bother, eh?”


End file.
